Page 24 of His Bride

“Lydia will accompany you.”

“Does she know anything about looking fashionable? She’s a soldier through and through.”

“Yes, she is, and she’s going to ensure your safety almost as well as I would. I trust her with your life, and that is to say I would trust her with everything.”

I smile at his sweet concern for my protection, but that doesn’t solve my problem. “I need someone who can tell me what I should buy.”

“Lydia is not just a soldier. She is also a woman,” he reminds me. “She will be useful.”

Lydia is not dressed in her formal uniform when I meet up with her, still wearing the dress I arrived in yesterday. She is wearing pants, though, and long boots that rise up above her knee. She is also wearing a silk blouse that billows dramatically when she moves. She resembles a swashbuckler.

“I need to find dresses for formal engagements,” I explain. “I need to know what is in style, and what is not.”

“Nobody will dare sell you a dress that is out of style,” Lydia says. “It would destroy their reputation as a retailer. You are the wife of one of the most decorated generals in the history of the Artifice. Archon-General Darken is an illustrious figure in this city. You will be treated well wherever you go.”

“Is that right?”

“It is.”

“Then call me Mila,” I say.

Lydia’s eyes narrow a fraction. “I will use your title, as is proper.”

“You’ll do as I say,” I reply. I know I should perhaps avoid the confrontation, but my mother always taught me you need to get the respect of the staff.

Lydia smiles for the first time. Her teeth are sharper than I expected them to be, and the way her eyes flash as she replies gives me some cause for concern. “Will I?”

“Yes,” I say. “Please,” I add.

“You may be the Archon-General’s wife, but you are still a little bitch pup, and I am still a very big dog,” Lydia says, violet eyes glittering with something like threat. “Now, if you will accompany me, Lady Darken, it is time you went shopping.”

It takes me a moment to realize what she just said to me. It is so unspeakably rude that it takes me several minutes to digest it. Lydia’s expression grows increasingly annoyed as I refuse to move the way she wants me to.

“Is there a reason you’re not following me?”

“Are you allowed to speak to me that way? Should I check with my husband to see if he is comfortable with his wife being disrespected?”

“You can run and tell the general whatever you like,” Lydia says. “If that is the sort of bride you intend to be.”

“I’m the kind of bride who won’t be spoken to with that kind of disrespect. I haven’t done anything to you. There’s no reason to call me a…” I can’t even repeat the word. It’s so crude and cruel.

My lower lip starts to tremble. I suck in a deep breath, because I do not want to cry. It would be absolutely humiliating to sob because someone is rude to me.

“Why don’t you like me?” I ask the question with my voice breaking.

Lydia lets out a long sigh. “It is not personal, Lady Darken,” she says. “I am accustomed to speaking harshly to other soldiers. I am not a creature of the city, or of formal situations. I was chosen by the Archon-General to guard you because I served in his personal guard. I forget that you have a more delicate sensibility.”

“I bet you never called Arthur a little bitch,” I complain.

“I did not,” she says, her cheek twitching with amusement. “Now, if you will accompany me, it’s time we got you a nice dress.”

I allow myself to be escorted from the fortress and into the city. New Boston is a gleaming place, full of people and excitement. Lydia and I take the car to a store that has been chosen for me in advance.

Frills and Thrills, the sign declares. It seems very cheerful, which is interesting because I didn’t think that The State did cheerful. I thought it did power and ceremony and war. I suppose it does all that too.

“Ladies! How can I help you!” A very cheery lady with pink curling hair greets us as we step into the boutique.

“This is the Lady Darken,” Lydia says. “She is looking for a formal gown or two.”

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